I Obsess, I Digress

Today, I did just a tiny bit of self-pampering: I  got my nails done. They’re red and green and have little bows on my left ring finger and right middle finger. I spent some much needed time with my very pregnant best friend, resting my palm on her tummy and feeling the baby push back at me (an insane experience); I went to the gym for the first time in 3 weeks, I did some reading,  I started work on a new short story, and I dusted off my flash drive to take a look at my novel-in-progress.

I’m up and down but mostly up this week, and I thank my blogging family yet again for your constant words of encouragement. I’ve made the decision to see a therapist, and am honestly excited by the idea. I’ve talked to several people now who have been to therapy, and they all say the same thing: “Everyone should see a therapist at some point in their lives.”

The excitement of the holidays is among us, and I must say my mind (and gut) are getting fully into the Christmas spirit. Let’s eat – I’ll feel bad about it later.

I’m including a short excerpt from where I left my novel, in the mist of NaNoWriMo and my negative attitude. I’m feeling suddenly inspired to get back on track. 🙂

      

        I sat on Mr. Paoli’s couch, one afternoon when I was seventeen, drinking lemonade and wiggling my toes through the dust that floated in a ray of sunlight filtering through the window. My father had shrunk our bank account with his trips to the liquor store and I needed a car, so I bought a new pushup bra at the corner store and snapped it on with my tightest, low-cut shirt.

“And what do I get out of it?” He sat next to me and moved my feet to his lap.

“Like you don’t already know the answer to that.” I lifted one foot and moved it gently over the crotch of his pants. My disgust for him had been stifled by my love for his money.

He grabbed my ankle and pursed his lips. I looked up at him in confusion. “What’s wrong?” I laughed. “Something else?”

“One of those afternoons”, he started, “when your father was at work and I offered to help your mother. One of those afternoons she let me.”

He stared at me, his hand still on my ankle. I sat up and curled my knees into my chest, releasing it. “Let you what?” My gaze fell to the half empty glass of lemonade on the coffee table.

“Angel.” He reached over, trying to put his hand on my knee, but I backed into the arm of the couch.

The room began to go dark around me; the sunlight narrowed to slits in front of my eyes before fading altogether. I felt cold, and a layer of clammy sweat formed on my hands and forehead.

“Don’t” I mustered through the fog.

 

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5 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized, Writing

5 responses to “I Obsess, I Digress

  1. I am so relieved to hear that you’ll see someone! I wasn’t sure if you were or weren’t and couldn’t think of a way to ask or suggest. It’s the absolute best way to take care of yourself when the really dark moods hit. Good for you. 🙂 I hope your therapist is a good ‘fit’ and that you find the experience as valuable as I did my own.

    As to your excerpt, my god, what a memory she must have revisited. Way to build up interest.

    • Thank you, Re! The meeting went so, so, so well. I already plan on visiting with her again. Within the first half hour she thought she found what may have triggered my depression, since it really came out of nowhere, and so suddenly. Finding some sort of source – whether it was really the cause or not – is so relieving. 🙂

      And thank you for your comment on the excerpt! Glad it caught your interest. 🙂

  2. I am glad you’re coming out of that funk. It’s hard to do, but you’re awesome, so you can do it! The best thing about seeing a shrink isn’t that they’re highly trained professionals, but that they’re legally bound never to tell anyone what you tell them.

    That story bit was disturbing. It was really disturbing at first when I thought she was sitting next to her father for a second.

    • Thank you, Edward! It really is a great feeling, having someone to spill my heart out to, who won’t (or at least, isn’t supposed to), play whisper down the lane with my deepest secrets.

      Glad it was disturbing, but yeesh, maybe I should look into rewording a few things…I really don’t want anyone thinking that was her father, even if for a brief moment.

      I’m creepy but not THAT creepy. Thanks for pointing that out!!!!

  3. boy, did paoli blow it! hey – good to see you’re coming up for air…gulp it in girl…breathe…drink…taste…chocolate…good wine…a kiss…continue…

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